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So, I look at myself in the mirror, and the woman who stares back at me doesn’t at all resemble the woman I used to know.

This woman staring back at me is deep. In fact, she isn’t even staring at me; she’s glaring at me. Challenging me. Daring me to make a move. Because she knows that for every move I make, she’s got a counter move right up her sleeve.

This woman is interesting.

She’s soulful and warm, yet stern, cunning, and wise — all at the same time. She’s different. Not who I remember her to be.

This woman isn’t at all afraid to lean her head back and let out a hearty laugh from way deep down. Not afraid to shed salty tears when she’s sad or lonely; won’t hesitate to pray when necessary or asked to. And throws one mean tea party…ask any 5-year-old she knows.

Who is this woman, and where did she come from?

The woman I remember was timid and shy. Jumped at sudden noises, resisted challenges with every bone in her fragile, weak body. She was too careful, and too careless. Everyone she knew spoke for her; finished her sentences ’cause she couldn’t finish them herself. Yeah, that’s who I remember.

This woman in the mirror is vastly different, as I said. Clouded in mystery; yet transparency and boldness are her typical orders of the day. Born a native to the states, but linguistically apt, she dances in Caribbean rhythms and belts out old gospel hymns with an authoritative power that can only come from heaven. She whistles as she works with her hands, kisses boo-boos on skinned knees, feeds friends and enemies alike if they’re hungry, and hums low, steady, and strong – like an 80-year-old grandmother – as she prepares supper and does housework.

Not sure where this woman I see came from, or exactly where she is headed, but I plan to tag along to find out. If I had to speculate – knowing her upbringing- I’d surmise she’s a combination of her momma and her daddy, mixed with some grand- and great-grands, a bit of old-school with a new-school twist, and enough New York in her to stand out in the South but embrace it just the same.

This woman I see has Grown. Evolved. Changed. And I give God praise for it.

These adjectives are just a few of the discouraging tags that have come across the desk within the recesses of my mind, usually not long after I start making headway and/or progress in my personal or professional life. Unfortunately, my sometimes knee-jerk reaction is to pout and try to figure out a way around the environmental madness. Problem with that plan is that almost always results in frustration and aggravation. Whatever to do, then?

Good question. Albeit one that I don’t yet have the answer to. However, I love the concept of spiritual boldness just enough to be willing to look my challenge right in the eye today and demand that it be removed from hither in Jesus’ name.

Perhaps my challenges today are opportunities for self-improvement. Perhaps they are tests of my seemingly ever-dwindling patience reservoir. I said seemingly. Or better yet, perhaps they are just the fuel that I need to motivate me in the right direction.

I’ll take all of the above for $500, Alex….

So, ultimately, my game plan is to pray and push through strategically; not haphazardly. Hopefully, during that process I can take some time to reflect and remember the struggles, and learn from my mistakes…taking great care to not make the same ones all over again.

Bonus round: Encourage someone else along the way…it’s worth way more than the trip to the Bahamas. 🙂

Okay, more along the lines of a duck-liker; I don’t exactly love them, per se. Not in a Duck Dynasty kind of way. I do, however, study their behavior when I can, and enjoy feeding them. Maybe sneak in a snapshot of families together every now and again.

Yes, I am the duck lady. Hardy-har-har.

I am the one who sits under the trees watching and talking to the fowls that occupy the local ponds and lakes. Why, you ask? Because it’s quiet there. Because it’s peaceful there. And because the ducks aren’t overly picky with their dinner; they eat what you give them, what they can swallow, eat until they’re full, and they swim away happy.

So not like the rest of us.

My informal career as the duck lady began many months ago. Having observed a number of duck-families in action, I started noticing behavior patterns among themselves – many of which resemble your typical American family, believe it or not. What intrigues me the most is how the adolescent ducks behave – it’s hilarious and appalling at the very same time. These ungrateful little heathens with feathers go from soft, cuddly, cute ducklings to ravenous, bread-hungry, duck-brutes in a matter of weeks. They take no prisoners, I tell you, and they are not afraid to let you know that. Shameful, it is, really.

In fact, it is this very behavior pattern that compelled me to write this post. Several days ago, I was out walking my chihuahua, Charlie, when I noticed a mama duck and her then-well-behaved little brood nestled in the safety of the reeds in a nearby pond. In my mind, I was thinking that it would be nice to unwind by spending some time feeding them, so naturally I had to follow due process to introduce myself before I could be “approved” to share dinner time with them.

Ah, yes. Did I neglect to mention there is a process one must follow before one can feed a duck family? Indeed, there is, friend. Indeed, there is. To be under the assumption that one can just “feed” a duck without permission from the patriarch and a behavioral interview from the matriarch of the family is to live under false pretenses, you see.

Here’s how it usually works:

Bread supplier (a/k/a the “duck lady”) makes slow incline or decline toward bank and announces arrival by making weird clicking sound with tongue or mouth. This lets them know that you come in peace and mean no harm. Most macho duck patriarchs dig that.

Bread supplier slowly reaches for dinner, in whichever packaging it’s brought in – paper bag, napkin, etc. It is important to remember to not make any sudden movements. Don’t let these guys fool you. They roll deep. When they stand up and flap their wings, that is not showing off. That is your official warning to take cover immediately, as they are likely summoning their entire species, including prison inmate relatives who can and will beat you to death if they think you’re a threat. Death by duck is not a pretty sight. Proceed with caution.

Once bread is in hand, throw a few crusts toward the patriarch first. This way he can assess and analyze it, test it for cooties, and let his wife know it’s safe for the children. Once the wife gets the dad’s okay and gives you the once-over (you are another female, after all), you are now an approved supplier. You’re the duck lady, congratulations.

Okay, did that, and now I’m clear to provide sustenance for this family, right? Yes. So, Charlie and I spent a few minutes today and earlier this week with my new friends, and I’m noticing that the now-teenaged duck-brutes (they’re not babies anymore) practically claw over one another to get to the meal; all the while mama-duck stands back, maintains some distance, and eats the leftovers. WHAT??? You mean to tell me that mama-duck, after ALL that she has done for the duck-brutes in her lifetime isn’t considered before the feeding begins? Mama gets no credit at all? She doesn’t get first dibs on dinner? Not even a moment of thanks or a unanimous quack to say “thanks, Mom?” The nerve!!

Who’s running that nest, anyways?

Seeing this detestable demonstration of lack of gratitude left me angry and not a happy camper at all. I was so upset that Charlie and I left, and I vowed not to return anytime soon. Or, at least not until suppertime tomorrow. That’s what they get. Where is the love? Where’s the humanity? As much as I love my own children, well, like they’re my own, in some ways they remind me of these little duck-brutes. Want it all, need it now, “give-me-its-mine”, and Mama gets the leftovers…if at all. Sheesh.

Well, at least I take comfort in knowing that some day, my little duck-brutes ( ahem, I mean, children…heh heh :)) will have broods of their own and will inevitably learn that parenting – in whatever shape or form it comes in – is a thankless job, in which we are most often left to clean up the crumbs. It’s still love, and even with the leftovers, it’s still our job to protect them and teach them to never eat bread from strange duck ladies. It’s for their own good.

….besides, you don’t want to end up like crazy Cousin Steve. Story goes that he got out of the river and has never been the same since. Quacks to himself and all.

With regard to bending on my decisions to pursue my dreams? My response is a triumphant “I think not!”

Interestingly enough, I knew when I first made up my mind to pursue something I started working on a long time ago that there were going to be some disappointments and a lot of nay-saying. I knew I’d face some possible discouragement, too — from the online community and beyond that.

What I didn’t pencil into my plans at the time was how I was going to prepare for that. But the time to implement and execute that game plan is right now. While I will not profess to be any kind of a science buff, I do know that the Law of Physics tells us that there is an “equal and opposite reaction for every action.” And so, it would be silly of me to think that I could step out on faith and move forward with new projects and not face backlash of some sort.

Blah.

That backlash came in my general direction as I was recently conducting some independent research, only to find a number of sources that frown upon “dreamers”, such as myself. There is certainly no shortage of articles, opinions, and blogs about folks who branch out on their own to do the unconventional in terms of independent or freelance work. And rightly so — I mean, they can think or say whatever they wish, after all. It’s just discouraging when you read that stuff, you know?

Now, let me clarify what I mean by the term “dreamer.”

In no way am I insinuating that I am some odd clairvoyant-type with underworldly powers. No, indeed. When I use that term, I just simply mean that I have finally made up my mind to actively and aggressively pursue several independent projects that I have always dreamed of working on (it does have more meaning to me than that, but that is another blog altogether). By the grace of God, I am blessed with the opportunity, time, and space to put those plans into action, and thus, I am.

My immediate focus, however, is to pray about it and push through anyway, despite the negative feedback that’s out there. If I can encourage or help someone else along the way, that’s an added bonus. A free gift with purchase, if you will. In the very same way that I can decide on what to eat for lunch, I can likewise decide whether I will accept the negative over the positive, or vice-versa.

(Sigh)

Personally, I think I’ll take a heaping dish of positive thinking today with a side of “Let’s do this.”